


We'll Be Right Back

by redmacallan



Series: After These Messages [2]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: M/M, mostly fluff lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2018-12-25 19:56:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12043134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redmacallan/pseuds/redmacallan
Summary: Short Kalluzeb fics written during the break between seasons 3 and 4.





	1. Pretty

**Author's Note:**

> Second set of these! As usual, a HUGE thank you to biting_moopie for being the best beta reader. :)

Ezra smirks at the magazine on their table. "She your type?"

Zeb frowns, trying to figure out what the kid's talking about. The page facing up has a picture of Lo-Fay, the Rodian pop star, in a short, skimpy skirt, her body facing away from the camera but her head cocked over one shoulder, a playful smirk on her face. It's... suggestive, sure, but almost jokingly so, in Zeb's opinion. He can't imagine anyone taking it seriously.

"No," he replies, unwilling to go any further.

Ezra snorts. "Sure, buddy. Your secret's safe with me." He hops onto his bunk. "I won't tell anyone about your celebrity crush."

Zeb jabs a knee into the bunk above him, allowing himself a grin when he hears Ezra yelp. "No secret to keep, kid. I don't have a _celebrity crush_ ," he says, emphasising the words so as to make fun of them, "and if I did, it wouldn't be _her_."

"Aww, c'mon." The kid's tone is teasing, prodding for a reaction from Zeb. "You're gonna hurt her feelings." He pokes his head down to look at Zeb, a grin that can only be described as 'shit-eating' on his face. "What's wrong with her, then?"

Oh no, he doesn't. "Nothing."

"So you _do_ like her?" Ezra laughs.

Zeb stares him down before speaking. "...I'm _gay_ , Ezra."

A beat. "Oh." Ezra slinks back into his own bunk. " _Oh_."

Zeb huffs. _Well, that went well._

Ezra refuses to shut up, however. "So..."

" _No_ , Ezra."

"...who _is_ your type?"

Zeb rolls over to glare at the wall. "I am _not_ talking to you about this."

"Kanan?"

"Ezra ‒"

"That one guy at the bar? I wondered if you were eyeing him up because you wanted to fight him, but ‒"

" _Ezra_ ‒"

"Agent Kallus?"

Zeb resists the urge to puke. "Give me some kriffing credit, Ezra, I've got _standards_."

"Really? You don't seem to have any when it comes to beer. Plus," he adds, and Zeb can hear the finger waggle without seeing it, "he's kind of got a beard like you. Could be a Lasat thing."

It is, but he's not giving Ezra the pleasure of even being slightly right. "You know what he's done. What he tried to do."

"Yeah, I know," Ezra replies, oddly casual about the whole thing. "I just mean, y'know, if there was some Kallus walking around who _wasn't_ an asshole. Would he be like, uh..." and he struggles to find the right word "...pretty?"

Zeb snorts bitterly. "No." He stares up at the top of his bunk. "He'll be prettiest when he's dead."

* * *

Kallus is, somewhat annoyingly, not dead.

Zeb knows this because he's currently stuck with him in an icy hellhole of a cave with the guy. Zeb knows this because he's fixing Kallus's leg as best he can, hoisting him on his back and out of the cave, and huddling around a meteorite with him. Zeb knows this because he can see Kallus's breath condensing every time he exhales while they wait for someone ‒ anyone, at this point ‒ to pick up their signal.

Waiting's really all he _can_ do. All either of them can do, honestly ‒ just sit and wait and try not to die from the cold, or the local wildlife, or each other.

Though _each other_ doesn't really seem to be an issue, at least not now. Kallus is hunched over, trying to preserve what little body heat he has, and any threatening presence the guy previously had disappears with him looking like that.

Whatever _like that_ means, Zeb doesn't quite know.

So he waits, and he plans, and he fixes, but mostly he listens. Listens as Kallus tells him about his old unit, about the ideals he believes in, about why he does what he does. He listens as Kallus says his name, to the way the syllables sound strange for reasons beyond the tremor in Kallus's voice from the cold.

He hasn't heard his full name in ages. He didn't expect Kallus to know it.

But he watches, too. Watches the distant, glazed look in Kallus's eyes when he recounts his past (and he knows it all too well, has seen it too many times), the way his facial expression suddenly turns into something that's not a scowl, the sleepy look when they first wake up that borders on affectionate.

It's not. Zeb knows it isn't. But whatever it is (vulnerability? unguardedness?) it doesn't look bad on him, necessarily.

In fact, Kallus is looking...

...Well, not _un_ attractive. Maybe.

Just maybe.

* * *

He gets the news from Sabine, and then the news from Kanan, and suddenly Kallus is looking decidedly _not_ unattractive.

Sabine's the first to come see him. She wanders into his room the evening after she returns from her mission, the black dye still in her hair.

She hovers in the doorway. "Hey, Zeb, listen..."

Zeb's ears twitch curiously, and he turns towards her.

"So..." She scratches the back of her head. "On my mission, I saw Kallus."

Zeb rolls his eyes. "Don't we always? I swear, it's like that guy just follows us around everywh‒"

"No, but," Sabine cuts in, "he was... different."

Zeb's brow furrows in confusion. He can't have really changed from their conversation, can he? Or...

"He actually helped us," Sabine says. "He... He shut the doors so the troopers couldn't get in and told us the easiest escape route. I didn't," she laughs nervously, "believe him at first, but I told him to give me a reason not to shoot him right there, and..."

"And?" Zeb's voice is quiet, disbelieving.

"And he told me to tell you 'We're even,'" she says, her fingers forming little air quotes. "He used your full name, too. How did he even _know_ that, Zeb?"

"I..." Zeb scrambles to come up with a decent lie. "I let it slip during our fight. Over Geonosis."

"Oh." Sabine frowns.

"I don't know why he helped you," he adds. He can't tell them about what happened on that moon. They wouldn’t understand. He doesn’t even really understand, and he was _there_.

She shrugs. "Guess we were just lucky, then." She shoots him a weak, confused grin. "Thanks, whatever you did."

Zeb laughs. "No problem."

And then it's Kanan's turn.

It's over the comms, in public, which makes it worse, somehow. Means Zeb's got nowhere to hide.

"I guess we can thank Agent Kallus," he says, far too casually for the weight those words hold. "He knew Fulcrum's secret code phrase."

Hera's stunned speechless, recoiling from the hologram on the table, her mouth open in shock.

Sabine's the first to speak. "Wait, _Kallus_ is _Fulcrum_? How does that even make sense?"

Zeb has to speak, has to try and dig himself out of the hole somehow. He couldn't stop himself even if it dug him in deeper, really.

"Karabast," he mutters, scratching the back of his head and staring down at the ground, ashamed. "I must've recruited him. You know," he laughs, unsure, "accidentally."

Ezra's stare is unsettling even through the grainy hologram. "You mean when you were stuck on that ice moon with him?"

_Kallus told them what I said?_ Zeb thinks, in the moment before he thinks _Wait, Kallus actually remembered what I said?_

"Yeah, well," and he has to speak, has to say something that won't make them all hate him, Kallus included, "we didn't kill each other, so I guess we're friends now?"

It's as truthful as he can be. It's still not enough.

Are they friends? He doesn't think so. Friends talk to each other, and see each other, and tend to have had more than one conversation where they weren't arguing.

But friends do think about each other, and worry about each other, and Zeb'll be damned if he hasn't done his fair share of worrying in the past ten months or so. Friends look out for each other, and Kallus seems to be doing that. If they weren't friends, Kallus would have left him to die.

It's as simple as that. Or rather, it's not, but that's what Zeb's telling himself.

Hera doesn't seem to be sure they're friends either. She gives him a glare. "Still, we'll use caution with our new _friend_ ," she says, dragging the word out so everyone's aware she doesn't mean it, "until we're sure what game he's playing." She looks at Zeb pointedly, and even before she says her goodbyes and turns off the comm, he can tell she's going to have a talk with him.

Sabine leaves, not wanting to stick around, and the droid trundles off somewhere else.

Hera puts her hands on her hips. She closes her eyes and takes a deep, stress-filled sigh.

"I'm not angry, Zeb," she says, in a voice far too controlled to be good news. "I just want to know some things, and this time ‒" she glares at him  "‒ I need you to be honest. Completely honest."

Zeb gulps. "What do you want to know?"

"What happened on that moon. Why you didn't tell us before. Why we're supposed to be trusting _Kallus_ now, of all people!" She puts a hand over her face. "If he's a Fulcrum agent now, I'm trusting him with the lives of my crew. And I don't like that, because right now, I haven't seen him do anything except lie and sneer and hunt us down." She waves her hand around as she speaks, agitated, before bringing it back to her hip. "And you seem to know him best, out of everyone here. So convince me."

"He..." Zeb doesn't know how to start, running through every option in his head and just getting annoyed. "Karabast, Hera, I don't know either! All I know is that when we crashed on that moon, I didn't kill him because his leg was broken, and then later, he didn't kill me. I wasn't ‒" he curses  "‒ I wasn't _there_ when he decided to become a Fulcrum agent, I didn't _tell_ him to, I just..." He trails off, slowly realising something.

"Just what?" Hera's stare is softer, less threatening.

"I told him to..." Zeb shakes his head. "When we were there, we were talking about Geonosis, and I told him to seek the answers, see if he still believed in the Empire after he found them, but..." He wants to laugh, suddenly filled with pride at the fact that Kallus listened to him, that Kallus _did_ find his answers, that ‒

He forces the laugh down, not wanting to look hysterical. Hera's suspicious enough of him as it is.

"And you think he went looking? Didn't like what he saw?" She cocks an eyebrow.

"It's my best guess." Zeb's talking on autopilot, mind too occupied with the fact that _it worked, it worked, I haven't been obsessing over someone evil, thank the Ashla_ ‒

"Alright, well." Hera grabs her datapad and inputs something into it. "You'll have to file a report, but I do believe you. We'll stay cautious, but we at least have reason to believe this might be genuine."

Zeb nods, turns, and leaves to try and collect his thoughts.

He wonders what it'll be like when he finally sees Kallus again. He allows himself to wonder, in those moments where it's late and the Ghost is quiet and the only thing that could ever hear him is the hum of the engine. His dreams are filled with it, filled with the image of Kallus standing there, illuminated by some strange golden light, looking noble, honourable, _good_.

And so, when Ezra leaves to get Kallus out, Zeb decides he's going to tell him.

When Kallus gets there, he's going to tell him _everything_ . He's going to say _exactly_ what he thinks, ask why in all the galaxies and stars and planets he would do something as stupid, as reckless, as brilliant, as _brave_ ‒

And, and ‒

He's going to stop talking at some point, and he still doesn't know what Kallus will do, if he'll sit there and look scared, or if he'll break down, or if he'll say something snarky back ( _Ashla_ , Zeb hopes he does that), but he knows he just wants to...

He doesn't. He doesn't know _what_ he wants to do, except for some vague idea of feeling Kallus under his fingertips, ears picking up the steady thrum of his pulse, muttering into Kallus's ear about how _proud_ he is, how happy he's alive, how he'll be there, how he's not letting Kallus go back.

He's been thinking about it endlessly, wondering what it means that he's so happy to know someone who did so much, and despite several evenings spent trying to put it into words, he can't quite get there.

So he doesn't. He shows up, waits dutifully for the transport to appear, and tries desperately not to look _too_ excited when it finally lands.

It's not working. Hera's giving him worried glances.

"He didn't..." Ezra trails off, unable to look him in the eye. "He stayed. Said he could do more good there."

Zeb's stomach drops.

He _what_?

He gapes at Ezra, frozen still in shock. Ezra slinks off somewhere, looking relatively unharmed, and Zeb's just left standing by the ship, hunched over and disappointed.

No, not disappointed. More than that.

Kanan approaches him first, taking off his helmet and mask and placing a hand on Zeb's shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'll..." Zeb draws himself back up deliberately, hoping Kanan won't notice it's forced. "I'll be fine. Just surprised."

Kanan nods knowingly. "Well, you can talk to us anytime." He sighs. "He'd have been useful, I know. I'm sure he'll keep himself busy, but it's a shame he's still stuck there."

Useful. He'd have been useful.

_Is that what it is?_ Zeb wonders.

It could be. Kanan's right. Kallus is highly trained and much better at not-dying than a lot of the rebel forces are right now. He has inside information about the Empire just from having lived in it, not to mention the trove of information he likely has from being an intelligence officer. He'd be a valuable asset to any team.

It's not just that. It can't be. It doesn't feel right on its own. It's... It's something else. Fear. Worry. Disappointment.

Because finally, finally Zeb was going to be able to sort out his emotions. Finally, he was going to be able to sleep knowing Kallus wasn't going to be executed the next day, maybe even hearing him sleep in the bunk below. Finally, he was going to be able to tell Kallus things, to ask him what he found, to spar with a worthy opponent without the added fear of actual death. Finally, he was going to make some kind of progress with... with _everything_.

And now he’s back to square one.

"Yeah, you're right," he says, instead. "I just hope they don't find him out."

Kanan shrugs. "Well, at least he'll put up a fight. He certainly did today."

And with that, the Jedi walks off, leaving Zeb immersed in his own thoughts.

* * *

He's seen Kallus already. Technically. He'd hobbled in after they'd picked him up, and Zeb had spared a glance towards him, just to check he was actually there, actually real, actually not-dead.

He was, luckily. Zeb isn't sure what he'd have done otherwise.

It still hasn't quite sunk in, though, which is why it's still a shock when he sees Kallus the second time.

His wounds hadn't been as clear in the low, odd lighting of the cockpit, but they're a little too clear now. Kallus is bloodied and bruised, looks glum at best and hopeless at worst, and Zeb's not sure if the way he's hunched around himself is from pain or guilt.

He watches him thank Kanan from the other end of the corridor and tries not to think too much about the way his chest feels when he hears Kallus speak.

Karabast.

He's beautiful. He's alive, he's breathing, he's speaking without a garbled filter over the top, he's _beautiful_.

The moment Kanan leaves, Zeb swoops in. "Kallus."

"Zeb?" He looks up from the floor, his eyes huge and terrified, one of them bloodshot from having been punched earlier. Now Zeb's closer, he can see the bags under his other eye from lack of sleep, the way his skin looks blue, uncared for, the creases on his forehead from panicking, worrying.

Zeb can't help himself. He hugs him.

Kallus makes a tiny, fragile sound, too many emotions squeezed out into one yelp.

Zeb presses his face into Kallus's hair. "You're alive."

"Yes, I..." Kallus's voice cracks, and his whole body shudders. "I am."

Zeb feels rather than hears him start to cry. Kallus shakes when he cries, his arms curled around himself, and soon, there's a damp patch forming on Zeb's collarbone.

He can't bring himself to mind. At least it's Kallus there in his arms, wonderful, honourable, saved-our-lives Kallus who's crying into him. He wouldn't want it to be anyone else.

Kallus pulls away eventually and laughs dryly. "I must look awful." His arms curl a little tighter around himself again.

"No, you look..." Zeb replies, only realising how breathy his voice is after he's spoken. "Fine. But," he adds, tucking a strand of Kallus's hair back into place, "you should probably use the 'fresher anyway."

"Always," and Kallus winces at something hurting him, "room for improvement, I suppose."

* * *

He's pretty when he's happy, Zeb decides. Smiles suit him, as does the way his shoulders relax, and the unabashed joy in his voice, and the way his eyes sometimes catch the light, just as the sun’s setting.

It's been a while now since he's allowed himself to think that. He says it out loud too, sometimes, but only when Kallus is asleep, in those rare early mornings where Zeb's awake first.

He has to suppress a laugh just thinking about it. Trust the latest and the earliest risers in the rebellion to end up together.

Still, when he's up before Kallus, it's usually because the nightmares have been kept at bay, so Kallus looks... well, serene, for lack of a better word. It's not usually like that ‒ Kallus is used to sleeping with a frown. Said frown becomes a grimace on bad nights.

It's a scream on the worst ones, the ones where he thrashes and ends up elbowing Zeb in the stomach and won't stop shaking after he wakes up, but Zeb tries not to think about those. They'll go away eventually, they're told, so he sticks them out and tries to push down the fear in his stomach when they happen, along with the desire to hunt down every being who made Kallus like this, the need to fight the demons in someone else's head.

He can't. And this morning, he doesn't need to.

Waking up at 5 standard hours is early for Zeb, but the sun's shining right in his eyes, and it wakes him up. Kallus is lying beside him, a look on his face that's almost a smile, his features relaxed and peaceful.

Zeb resists the urge to kiss him, knowing it'll wake him up. Kallus needs all the sleep he can get, and what he does get seems to be doing him good. He's eating properly, too, and the drop in stress levels means he's not as fragile as he was when he first arrived.

Zeb had worried more about Kallus being fragile when he first arrived on the ship. Deciding to share a room meant that they often had to change together, and Zeb’s concern at seeing Kallus’s shirtless chest had seemingly confused the former agent.

“What’s wrong?” Kallus had asked.

“I can see your ribs.”

Kallus had laughed. “Well, they’re there. You’re kind of meant to see them.”

Zeb shook his head. “Not like that.” He’d run his eyes over Kallus’s torso, suppressing a wince at the way his ribcage jutted out and the fading bruises that lingered over them.

Kallus had just shrugged and slipped on his shirt. "You don't feed prisoners. Not ones like I was, anyway."

The Empire might not have fed their prisoners, but the Rebellion fed its captains. The shape of his ribcage is just visible if Zeb's looking for it, but it doesn't jut out anymore, and the bruises Zeb had winced at have long since faded from Kallus's skin.

It's a good sign, Zeb thinks.

The sun moves, angling its light slightly differently and shining onto Kallus's face instead. He smiles in his sleep, his mouth turning up just a little at the corners. His freckles stand out just a bit more under the sunlight (which Kallus had explained to him, once, before Zeb promptly forgot his explanation) and the sun refracts a little through his hair, turning streaks of it into yellow and white and gold.

He looks like he's glowing.

The light makes it look like his dreams, the ones from before Kallus joined them, with Kallus illuminated by the sun, brave and resilient against the universe. It doesn't quite look real, Zeb thinks, like something out of an old tale, romanticised and changed over so many generations that it's lost any relation to the real event it was rooted in.

He gives in and touches his lips to Kallus's forehead anyway: wary, feather-light.

"Ashla, you're pretty," he whispers, without caring whether the word's accurate or fitting at all, because it _feels_ right. And even if it is wrong, who's going to notice? He might as well just be thinking it.

He rolls over and goes back to sleep, never noticing the knowing smile on Kallus's face, or the way his eyes are open, just a crack.


	2. Poetry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Stella (@bloodhardt on twitter) for beta reading this one for me!   
> Just as a heads up, there's a vague reference to sex right at the beginning of this, but I don't think it's enough that the rating needs to go up. However, if that's something you're not comfortable with, please keep that in mind.

It shouldn't really surprise Kallus as much as it does, thinking about it. He's aware Lasan was a place- a planet- a society, far, far before the Empire decided to stick its hands in and destroy it.

And, as is inevitable, if you force a group of beings to stick together for long enough, they will develop language, art, and culture.

They will also develop a wide range of swear words. Kallus knows this firsthand, having had most of them (or, at least, what he imagines is most of them) growled in his ear, punctuated with a snap of Zeb's hips and a short, desperate breath on his cheek and neck and shoulder. Kallus can't translate them literally, but he can guess. His own language is just as colourful, even if it _ is  _ all in Basic.

Zeb doesn't swear when he comes, though, always groaning Kallus's name into his ear. Kallus says nothing. He tries, but it always comes out as a squeal of some kind.

Zeb’s softer, afterwards. He stops growling, becoming all smiles and cheesy jokes and mumbled compliments into Kallus’s hair.

Even then, he slips into Lasat.

"Love you," he says, nuzzling into Kallus's collarbone. "Love you, keru'u."

He says it in a way Kallus isn't used to hearing- not just the affection and intimacy and  _ love  _ behind the word (though Maker, that's alien to Kallus too), but the sounds, too, adding in a guttural stop between the two u's, and turning the k around in his throat until it sounds like two noises at once, the sounds easy and familiar out of his mouth. He's fond of it, though only between the two of them. Out in the world, he's always just Kallus or Kal or maybe  _ babe _ , if he's feeling risky.

Kallus doesn't dare to ask what it means, for a while. It feels as if it's not his place to ask. It's not his word, and he's responsible for the fact there's nowhere to go where he can learn the word.

Well, except Zeb.

So, on a night when Zeb's especially affectionate, he gets up the courage to ask "What does that mean?"

"Hmm?" Zeb looks over at him, focused and sated.

"Keru'u," Kallus replies. His pronunciation's mangled, and there's no richness to it, none of the beautiful double-sounding brilliance he loves when Zeb says it.

It'll do.

Zeb beams and kisses his cheek, muttering a long stream of Lasat between each kiss, as if he's pressing the words into Kallus's skin for safekeeping. He stops, staring up into Kallus's eyes. "Not sure how it translates. It's a good thing," he offers.

"I assumed."

Zeb snorts. "A  _ really  _ good thing." He goes back  to lying down. "Guess it's, uh... Like husband? Partner? Love?"

"A  _ literal  _ meaning, Zeb?"

"Oh." Zeb nods imperceptibly. "Yeah, it's a kind of fruit. Or, well, keru is. The 'u-" and that guttural noise makes Kallus shiver again- "makes it mean my."

There's a pause, just the two of them, wordless with only their breaths filling the air.

"Pretty sure it comes from this legend. Rursi'o Gragna."

Kallus turns his head from its spot on Zeb's shoulder, gazing at him.

"It's uh..." Zeb's eyes focus on the ceiling as he translates in his own head. "This goddess? I s'pose? Kanan'd probably say she was a force user of some kind and the story's been twisted, but..." He bats his free hand. "Gragna, anyway. She fell in love with this regular Lasat, who was called Rursi, and who grew fruit."

Kallus shifts to make himself more comfortable. "Go on."

Zeb grins down at him. "Well, they couldn't exactly be together, so every night, Gragna would sneak down and give Rursi a keru fruit from the gods, and that was, y'know. Their thing." He makes some vague gesture with his free hand. “So uh, obviously Rursi started planting them. Trying to grow more.” Zeb laughed. “Gotta make a living somehow.”

Kallus makes an amused snort in response.

Zeb continues. “Eventually though, the other gods noticed. Weren’t too happy about Gragna giving out their secrets, I guess, so they tried to discourage Rursi from seeing her and planting the fruit.”

“Discourage how?”

Zeb chuckles. “Ah, you know. Lighting. Storms. Dust outside of the dust season. Anything that sounds exciting when you tell it round a fire.” He laughs again. “But I mean, Gragna wasn’t going to give up that easily. You can’t just let people try to hurt your wife. Turned into a full-on battle between her and everyone else.”

Kallus shifts his head a little on Zeb’s shoulder. “Go on.”

“Well, through all this, the fruit was still growing and being sold, and then other Lasat were growing it too, until it spread everywhere. Really great, too- because it was from the gods, it was really hardy. Could grow anywhere.” He snorts. “That part’s true at least- I’ve seen ‘em growing on the sides of roads.”

_ Had seen _ , Kallus thinks for a passing moment, but then the thought’s gone. Zeb’s speaking again.

“And by that point, there really wasn’t much point attacking Rursi, because the fruit was basically everywhere. In the end, Gragna got all the other gods together and pointed out that this stuff was making people happy, and that to look after the people and keep them happy was really what they were meant to be doing. The fighting stopped pretty soon after that.”

“And Rursi?”

"Died of old age. She spread the blessing of the fruit though, and I mean, she was kind of married to a god. Ended up finally being able to be with her wife, forever.” He lets out a happy sigh.

"That's sweet."

"Mmm," Zeb hums in agreement. "I still think it was probably invented by someone who wanted to sell more fruit, though." Kallus snorts, and Zeb adds, "Hey, what better way to advertise your business than by turning it into a legend? No-one'll forget what you're selling if they've watched an opera on it." 

"There are operas?"

"Oh,  _ yeah _ . Sat through a fair few in my time."

Kallus snorts again. The idea of Zeb- the same man who fought a seventeen year old for the last waffle a few hours ago- watching a fancy opera seems ridiculous. 

Zeb laughs, too. "Hey, I was head of the Honor Guard. Sometimes the royal family went to operas, and I had to go to make sure they were safe."

"So it wasn't out of choice?" Kallus smirks.

"Well, let's say I wasn't complaining." Zeb kisses him again, smiling into Kallus's lips.

Kallus is smiling when he breaks off the kiss, too. Zeb looks ready for another, but Kallus's expression suddenly turns pensive. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Kallus snaps out of his thoughts. "I was just..."

"Just what?"

"Well, they're both women."

"Yep." Zeb tousles Kallus's hair. "Happens a lot in Lasat culture. Used to surprise me how little it does out here." He twirls a strand between his fingers thoughtfully, pausing before saying. "They'd like you."

"I-" Zeb kisses him to cut him off, and the words  _ killed them _ die on his lips.

"No, they'd like you.  _ This  _ you." Zeb stares at him, anger bubbling at the back of his eyes. 

"If you say so." Kallus's tone is clipped, guilty, unable to believe it but willing to go along.

"They would, keru'u." He snorts. "Though they'd probably compare us to another story the whole time."

"Another?"

"Mmm." Zeb's hands settle either side of Kallus's hips. "Lasat fight a lot, 'course. Kind of our thing."

"And the Mandalorians'."

"We were first." Zeb freezes. "Don't tell Sabine I said that."

Kallus chuckles.

"Anyway, back before Lasan was ruled under one royal family, there were lots of little groups fighting each other. Story goes two Lasat from opposing groups ended up trapped together and fell in love in secret. 'Course," he says, with another laugh, "it's got so many versions that I don't know which one's true. Some say one of them was a god of some kind. There was one I heard as a kid that involved the cave they were on blowing up, but I think that might have just been my uncle trying to keep me interested-"

_ He's got an uncle _ , and that thought shouldn't surprise Kallus as much as it does, and the reminder that Zeb has-  _ had  _ family shouldn't shock him but _ it does it does it does _

Kallus realises, too late, that he's been staring up at him this whole time, glassy-eyed and probably blushing.

Zeb's looking at him with something like awe. "You're beautiful."

"You're an awful liar."

"Not lying." Zeb lays an arm over him. "I wouldn't."

There's a moment, there, with Zeb's hand on his stomach, where Kallus wonders if he would, if he can trust him, and the thought terrifies him, stings his eyes and makes his chest hurt.

And then, out of the silence, Zeb starts speaking Lasat again.

The words are different this time- unconversational, not meant to be answered, but they sound beautiful, like it's the most important thing he's ever heard. There are little pauses and breaks and lilts where there normally wouldn't be, and-

It's  _ poetry _ , Kallus realises. 

He waits, surrounded by the words, until there's a break in Zeb's rhythm. "What?"

"Love poem. They made us memorise it." Zeb kisses the point where Kallus's back meets his neck. "Takes  _ hours _ ."

He thinks of asking  _ what does it mean? _ before realising that's stupid, that it means whatever Zeb wants it to mean, that it means Zeb's been listening and picking up on why he was asking about old stories that probably haven't been relevant to Zeb for  _ years _ , and he feels like crying but-

"Can you keep going?" he says, instead.

"Course."

And with that, Zeb's pressing poetry into his back, each syllable uttered to a freckle, each sound old to his ears and new to Kallus's.

And for all that they're different, Kallus has never felt like he's fitted in more.


	3. Presents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one of these! No big warnings like the last chapter-however, there is implied sex in this one, as well as a mention of piercings in... unfortunate places.  
> I apologise. (Kind of.)  
> Hope you enjoy!

He likes getting Kallus stuff.

It begins when they first start dating, when Kallus still isn't totally comfortable with outright asking for things. He panics a lot, and takes sick days quite often, too, looking numb and guilty in bed whilst knowing he'd be more of a liability than a help if he was working.

So Zeb gets him flowers. Humans like flowers, right? Everyone does, except Sabine, whose nose runs every time they're on a planet with too many of them, and has to take little pills to stop it from happening. Kallus doesn't seem to do that (though honestly, he can count the number of times he's seen the man actually surrounded by flowers on one hand, and he's only got four fingers) so Zeb figures it's fine.

Anyway, they don't cost anything. Everyone's stretched for money as it is, even with two senators backing them. He doesn't have money to spend on expensive gifts.

And so, after one too many days of seeing Kallus look glum and lonely, Zeb picks up a few flowers on his way back from working on the base, steals a cloth from the Ghost's kitchen, and wraps the flowers in them, leaving the bundle on Kallus's lap as he sleeps.

It doesn't strike him until after he's done it that maybe the cloth bit was weird. If you got someone a gift on Lasan, you'd wrap it in cloth. People tended to keep the cloths and use them for their own gifts, so they eventually got passed around, and there were different folds depending on the item and those who were giving and receiving it.

_ Perks of working for the royal family ‒ ettiquette lessons _ , he thinks, sarcastically. The various rules and intricacies are still burned into his mind, but that doesn't mean that learning them wasn't the most boring thing he's ever done. He wants to yawn just thinking about it.

No going back now, he figures. 

When he returns, he sees that Kallus has found a little jar to keep them in ‒ one of Sabine's, if the paint on the rim is any indication, and said jar is placed lovingly on the table, the cloth folded beside it. "You got me flowers," he says.

"Yeah." Zeb scratches the back of his neck. If he could blush, he'd be blushing. "You like 'em?"

"Yes." Kallus beams at him. "Thank you."

"Heh, they were no problem, really." If he looked any more sheepish, he'd actually be a sheep.

Kallus lifts up a corner of the blanket. "Are you ‒"

"Yeah, gimme a sec," Zeb says, shrugging off his armour and slinking into bed beside Kallus. 

Kallus sighs and leans into him, using Zeb's chest as a headboard. "The cloth thing was nice, too."

"Yeah?" Zeb looks down at him. "It's a Lasat thing. Wasn't sure if it'd come off as weird."

Kallus lets out a short chuckle, speaking very quietly and slowly. "I neither expect nor want you to act like we're dating on Coruscant, Zeb. If there's something you'd usually do, then..." He makes a vague sort of hand gesture and shakes his head, "by all means, do it."

Zeb brings his arms around him and nuzzles into the top of Kallus's head. "You mean it?"

"Of course." He smiles knowingly. "Though you might want to warn Hera if you're going to be borrowing her linen on a regular basis. I'm not sure she'll be too happy if it just goes missing."

So, he gets things for Kallus, leaves them wrapped in the best imitation of a traditional cloth he can manage (yes, it's a dishcloth he's stolen from the kitchen, but  _ still _ ) and returns the cloth from its place on their table to its drawer in the kitchen each time.

The gifts start out small, like the flowers. He brings those for weeks on end, even on days where Kallus is healthy enough to work, just to watch him grin, untie the cloth, and place the new flowers proudly in the jar.

Other things start creeping in, too. On a supply run, he finds a box of candy bars which he gives to Kallus. Granted, the box gets put in the kitchen so everyone can take them as they please ("I'm not eating a whole  _ box  _ of these, Zeb, Bridger would skin me alive"), but Kallus's giggle as he recognises the candy and his little breathless "Where did you  _ get _ these?" is reward enough.

Once, it's underwear, which Zeb worries is too forward, but he thinks it's justified. Kallus keeps wearing his one blue pair of underwear, always going to it first when it's in the drawer.

"You like those," Zeb remarks, with a sly grin.

"They're nice. Not black." Kallus yawns, stretches, and gets into bed. "Makes a change from the Empire."

"Want me to get you some more like that?" He's only half joking.

Kallus laughs. "The more ridiculous, the better, love."

Zeb doesn't think about it much until they loot an old Republic ship, previously a market of some kind before the Empire shut it down. They grab the food, fuel, and medical supplies they need, and they're on their way back to the Ghost when he spots a clothing store.

Intrigued, and suddenly remembering Kallus's half-request for underwear, he excuses himself, tells Sabine he'll be a minute or so late, and heads in to look at the clothes.

He looks around at the selection. Some of it's been stolen already ‒ they weren't the first to find this ship ‒ but some still hangs on the racks, and there's still quite a choice of underwear.

Even in the low light, he can tell they're colourful and over-the-top ‒ one of them's actually shaped like a bear, for crying out loud. Still, Kallus did ask for ridiculous ones. These fit the bill.

He grabs the ones that look like they're in his size, throws them into a bag from behind the counter, and places the bag along with the rest of his supplies.

He takes the bag for himself as soon as he gets on the Ghost. Kallus is still on Yavin ‒ something about providing some information on Imperial security systems, if Zeb remembers correctly ‒ so their room's empty, and Zeb can sneak his dishcloth from the kitchen and wrap the underwear in peace. He puts more time into it than usual, since they're in hyperspace for an hour or so, and decides to leave a little note on the outside. It's customary, after all, and Kallus did say he wanted Zeb to stick to customs.

_ Hope you like these! Zeb _ , he writes, and beneath that, his name in Lasat letters. It feels weird writing them again, all scratchy and dotty, unlike Aurebesh.

Kallus finds the gift an hour or so after they land, when he's finished helping AP-5 unload and organise the supplies. He speaks briefly to Zeb, and then they both walk to their shared room, making idle, comfortable conversation.

He spots the parcel straight away and rushes over to it, sneaking a puzzled, excited look at Zeb over his shoulder. He peers at the note, first, his eyebrows raised.

"Is this your name, here?" he asks, first, pointing at Zeb's writing.

"Yeah." Zeb waves a hand towards the gift. "You can open it."

Kallus raises his eyebrows, but unwraps the gift carefully anyway. Halfway through him folding the cloth neatly, as he always does, he spots what Zeb's actually brought him, drops the cloth, stands, laughs hysterically and then pulls Zeb into a hug. "I didn't think you'd actually‒" and he starts laughing again, Zeb laughing with him too, this time.

Their laughs go down to little chuckles after a while. They grin at each other, and Zeb notes that Kallus looks really, really good like this, skin flushed and eyes crinkled from laughing so hard, his mouth upturned.

They kidd. They're both still beaming as he pulls away. "So, you like 'em?"

"They're perfect." Kallus laughs again. "Absolutely kriffing perfect, Zeb, Maker ‒" and he kisses Zeb again in a rush of happiness ‒ "what did I do to deserve you?"

There's a lot of places Zeb could go with that answer ‒ dark, uncomfortable places they rarely talk about and never enjoy ‒ but Kallus looks amazing ‒ kriff, he  _ is  _ amazing when he's happy, and Zeb can't bring himself to go there.

"Look good in that blue pair, for one," he replies instead, coyly.

Kallus smirks. "Well, then I suppose I'll have to try the new ones on."

He does. They become Zeb's favourites, too.

The evening after the underwear incident, when they're both sleepy and thoroughly sated, Zeb curls an arm around Kallus and shuts his eyes, stretching out on the bed.

Kallus reaches a hand up to stroke his ears, chuckling slightly when they twitch at first. He's told Zeb they're velvety before, which Zeb takes to mean he likes touching them. He's certainly not complaining. It'd be a sign of affection even if Kallus was another Lasat.

Kallus strokes the tip of one between two fingers gently before making his way down along the side, satisfied when Zeb relaxes into the bed.

And then his fingers stop, Kallus freezes, and Zeb opens his eyes.

"What is it?"

"...Are your ears pierced?"

Zeb laughs.  _ Oh _ . He'd forgotten about that. "Yeah. Part of formal wear is earrings, so most Lasat have their ears pierced. Haven't worn any in years, though, so I forgot."

"How come they haven't healed up?"

"It's cartilage. Doesn't heal." He peers at Kallus confusedly. "Do yours heal?"

"Mine don't, they've never been pierced." He huffs and grabs Zeb's hand. "But if you pierce it here ‒" and he puts Zeb's finger on his earlobe ‒ "then it's just skin, so it can heal over if you leave it out long enough."

Zeb massages the bottom of his ear between his finger and thumb, more out of curiosity than anything else. "Hmm." He drops his hand down to rest on Kallus's shoulder. "So how'd you know that?"

"I have sisters, Zeb. Rich parents on Coruscant tend to use any excuse to give their girls jewellery."

Zeb's mouth opens in shock. "So men don't have 'em?"

"Not typically where I'm from, no." He gives Zeb the sort of look he does when he's saying something very seriously. "I'm not representative of all humans, Zeb. No one member of a species ever is."

"I know." Zeb kisses the top of his head, breathing in the smell of Kallus's hair.

Kallus sighs. "Doesn't Ja‒ Kanan have some things pierced?"

"From what I've gathered, yeah." He draws away from Kallus's hair so he can be heard more clearly. "Though if Hera was implying what I think she was, then not all of them are... clearly visible."

"You mean ‒"

"Yeah."

" _ Eugh. _ "

"Not sure if he still wears it, but I mean, he was just wandering the galaxy. Not much to do."

"Boredom doesn't mean you have to pierce your  _ dick _ , Zeb." He shivers. "Ugh.  _ Ouch _ ."

Zeb laughs, and Kallus even manages a small, slightly disgusted laugh in response. 

He shakes off any further thoughts of that topic. "So, your earrings. Were they, what, hoops?"

"Yeah, little ones." Zeb pinches the side of his ear where the holes are located, forming a little loop with his hand. "Like this."

Kallus makes a small hum of acknowledgement before kissing him. "Tired?"

"Mmm. Time to sleep?"

"Yeah," Kallus replies, laying his head on Zeb's chest and letting out a comfortable sigh when Zeb puts his arms around him.

They're both out like a light.

It takes time for Kallus's plan to go into action. He manages to find the frequency to call Chava with, somehow (Zeb has no idea, but he walks in on Kallus talking with her over the comms) and discusses something with her that he won't let Zeb hear.

The good news is that Chava seems cheery enough about it, and on one occasion where Zeb joins the conversation, actually congratulates the two of them.

Congratulates in a Chava way, anyway ‒ more "The ancient Lasat writings foretold this," and less "I hope you're happy together."

Still, Zeb can't help but wonder what he's planning. It has to be  _ something _ ‒ Kallus refuses to tell him what he's been talking about with Chava, simply saying he'll "find out soon enough."

It'd be infuriating if he wasn't in love with the guy, and it's pretty annoying as is.

It's only when he walks into their room on the Ghost after a mission away and sees a small, cloth-wrapped box on their bunk that it all clicks into place.

He goes over to it, picking it up and turning it over in his hands. It's small ‒ fits in the palm of his hand easily, and the cloth is...

Well, it's certainly not one he's taken from the kitchen. It's soft and fine, with tiny golden strands woven into the fabric, glinting in the light and complementing the blues and purples of the rest of the cloth perfectly.

Where did he  _ get  _ this?

On top, too, there's a note, this time in Kallus's writing.

_ For you, Zeb. Kallus _ , and then, like with Zeb's note, his name written painstakingly in Lasat lettering.

Zeb hears the door slide open, and turns his head. Kallus is there, leaning against the doorframe, smiling nervously.

"How ‒ What did you ‒"

"It's yours." Kallus nods towards the bed. "You can open it."

Zeb unties the knot and takes out the smaller box inside. He slips open the lid and ‒

Oh.  _ Oh _ .

They're  _ beautiful _ . Shiny and intricate, like his old ones when he first got them, tiny curls and patterns etched into the surface.

"Where did you get these?" he asks, his voice suddenly far away and breathless.

He can hear Kallus's smile as he walks closer. "Chava sent them over, along with the cloth. She said they were making similar ones on Lira San, so it wouldn't be a problem." He places a hand on Zeb's shoulder as Zeb holds one of the earrings in his fingers. "Do you like them?"

"Yeah, they're..." He trails away, laughing breathlessly. "Wow, Kallus." He looks up. "Can I try them on?"

"Of course." Kallus smiles and crouches down beside Zeb. "You need a hand?"

"No, I can ‒" and he picks up an earring, brushing his fingers along the side of his ear to remind himself where the holes are, before slipping the ring through and sealing it.

Kallus reaches a hand up. "Can I ‒"

"Sure."

Kallus's hand brushes Zeb's ear, inspecting the area around the piercing with a fond curiosity. "They're prettier on you," he muses.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Kallus's hand brushes the back of his ear, watching how the light glints off the earring as it twitches. "I'll have to get you some other ones, now." He's making the sort of dreamy, blissful face he sometimes does when he's very relaxed or very happy. It's nice to see.

And so Zeb decides that maybe Kallus getting him stuff is pretty great too.


	4. Parents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Penultimate chapter of this! As usual, beta'd by the lovely biting_moopie! <3

"You'd be a great father."

This said to a man who'd only just managed to quiet the baby he was holding, and was currently terrified to move from his position on the couch lest it start wailing again.

It was no wonder, then, that Kallus scoffed. "I am many things, Zeb. Parent of the year is not one of them."

"You're not a parent yet. Can't win that award without actually being one." Zeb slunk down to sit beside him. "'M just saying. You'd be good at it. Might win. Probably make a nice acceptance speech, knowing you."

Kallus huffed, cutting off the noise halfway through after remembering there was a baby curled against his chest who should definitely not be moved under any circumstance, ever.

Zeb held out his arms, baby clothes clutched in one of them. "Give her here."

Kallus glared. "And make her start crying again? Really?"

"Yeah," Zeb shrugged. "It'll be fine. You can blame me for it, if you really want."

"Fine." Kallus picked Cinder up off his chest, rousing her from her semi-sleep and handing her to Zeb.

She, as expected, started crying.

"Hey. Hey," Zeb muttered, in the soft voice he only seemed to use for small children and Kallus when he was scared, "baby... thing. Don't hafta cry. Just putting a jumper on you so you don't get cold."

Cinder thrashed in his arms, letting out another wail.

Kallus snorted. "With that level of baby-calming skill, Zeb, I'm sure you'll get second place."

"Comedy genius, Kal," he replied, handing Cinder back to Kallus. "Here, you hold her so I can put the jumper on. She seems to like you."

Kallus shot him a look that he hoped conveyed "are you serious?!" but took the baby anyway. She quieted a little, nuzzling back into place and shutting her eyes again.

It was pretty cute, Kallus had to admit.

Zeb held out the jumper. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just..." He untangled Cinder's limbs a little. "Just thinking.”

Zeb pulled one arm of the jumper on. "About what?" He was using his scared-Kallus-and-small-things voice again.

"Nothing bad," Kallus replied. "Just..." He thought his words over for a moment. "She's so small."

"Yeah?" Zeb chuckled, pulling the other arm on. "Hera said she's meant to be big for her age, apparently. Though she was the one giving birth. She's probably biased."

"No, but I mean..." he turned Cinder round so Zeb could button up the front. She stirred for a moment, then her eyes fluttered closed again. "Compared to us, she's small."

"I s'pose so." Zeb started on the buttons. "I was smaller when I was her age, though."

Kallus's eyes look up and down, squinting at Zeb's tall frame. "Really?"

"Yup." He finishes buttoning up Cinder, gives her a little pat on the head, and lets Kallus turn her around again. "Lasat babies are small anyway. I was the, uh..." he mutters something in Lasat, trying to translate it "...the runt of the litter. The smallest one."

Kallus quirked an eyebrow. "You grew out of that, then."

"Mmm." He threw an arm around Kallus's shoulders, smiling down at the now sleeping baby. "Well, goes to show. Little things can... grow. Into big ones."

"Garazeb Orrelios, master of metaphors."

Zeb nuzzled his cheek. "I'll have to add that to my list of achievements."

Kallus laughed, and Cinder stirred, lifting her head to see what was happening. Kallus shushed her. "It's okay. Go to sleep," he muttered, stroking her back.

Her little lekku twitched. They were shorter than average, which Hera put down to her being half-human. She was slightly worried what'd happen as she grew up, but right now, they were just cute. She even had hats made specifically for them.

"Makes you wonder what one of ours would look like," said Zeb.

"Unless you're planning on surrogacy, that's unlikely to happen."

"It  _ could _ ," Zeb insisted.

"With expensive medical procedures and the approval of the Senate, sure." Kallus's smile was bitter, unhappy at having to mention anything vaguely Imperial. "It's not like there's a shortage of kids who need adopting nowadays, anyway."

_ War tends to do that, _ he thought, but the words remained unspoken. Cinder's tiny snores filled the air.

Zeb's hand moved slightly on his shoulder. "I still think you'd be a good father."

Kallus laughed dryly. "I have no idea what you're basing that on. I've spent most of my life avoiding children, and it's not like I was ever close to  _ my  _ father." He shook his head. "Besides, most of my experience comes from helping cadets. I'd be too strict and ‒" 

_ Imperial _ , he was about to say. He cut himself off, trying not to start panicking, lest Cinder notice. He wasn't sure Zeb could deal with both of them at once.

Zeb's hand dropped down to rub circles on Kallus's back. "You'd do just what you always do ‒ stop everyone from getting into too much trouble, and stick around no matter what." He leant the side of his forehead against Kallus's, breathing deliberately slowly to get Kallus to calm down. "'Sides, you always look so happy with Cinder. I like seeing you like that."

"Hm." Kallus smiled weakly, slowly beginning to calm down. "So, do Lasat babies scratch?"

Zeb smirked. "Not much. Claws don't grow in properly for a while. They're used to fur though, so they might try to sleep in your sideburns or something."

Kallus ran his fingers through the hair on his left cheek. "I suppose I can live with that."

Cinder clenched and unclenched her fist in her sleep, screwing up her face in disgust, eyes still shut. Kallus made a shushing sound, bouncing her a little, and her face relaxed, her head slumping against Kallus’s arm. 

Zeb, who had been watching, laughed. “There you go.” He leaned away from Kallus, still keeping his hand on his back. “So, we’re waiting then?”

“Hm?”

“For kids.” Zeb cocked his head to the side. “You want to wait a while.”

“I ‒” It was Kallus’s turn to frown. “I mean ‒”

The hand on his back started moving again. “I don’t want to push you into anything. I’d rather wait a while too.” He snorted. “Not sure I’d be much use with a kid either, doing what I do now.”

“We’d be fine,” said Kallus, more surely than he actually felt. “If ‒ if we had to. We just… don’t have to. Yet.”

Zeb leaned over, resting his head on Kallus’s shoulder. “So, we wait until the war’s over, get a little house somewhere, adopt some… orphans, yeah?”

“Mmm.” Kallus leant into the contact. “Maybe a pet.”

“You’ve already got  _ me _ .”

Kallus snorted. “Are you taking Ezra’s jokes seriously now?”

Zeb laughed back. “Fine, a pet. Keep the kids occupied. One of us gets a cushy job somewhere. We buy a new droid ‒”

“What, Chopper’s not good enough?”

“You’d trust Chop with our  _ kids _ ?”

Kallus chuckled. “Point taken. So, a nice, dependable, non-homicidal droid…”

Zeb burst in. “And a bed we can both fit in ‒”

“And a kitchen bigger than a broom cupboard ‒”

“And an actual garden ‒”

“And heating where we’re not always freezing to death because we need to save fuel ‒”

“And some kids we can love to bits.” Zeb glanced up at him. “How’s that sound?”

Kallus laughed. “That’d be good.”

“ _ You’d _ be good.” Zeb’s grin was proud, warm.

Kallus smiled back, unable to help himself. “You might just be right.” He shot Zeb an affectionate, teasing glance. “ _ Might _ .”

Zeb’s laugh and the soft noise Cinder made in his arms were the only answers he needed.


	5. Prayers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last one, and my personal favourite of these- I decided to save the best for last.  
> Thank you all for sticking with me through this and leaving such wonderful comments and kudos. It means a lot to me. :)  
> As usual, beta'd by biting_moopie.

_Well_ , thought Zeb, _this is not how I thought this date was going to go._

It had seemed like a nice idea at first. A stroll through the forests of Yavin, away from the prying eyes of both the Empire and the Rebellion, sounded like the perfect way to spend their afternoon off. The lush green forests, the faint sound of birds chirping, the scent of fresh, clean air, the two of them, all alone...

Oh, and the rain. The rain, which they hadn't accounted for.

Kallus's hair was soaked. He had long since given up on trying to protect himself with his jacket and had instead settled on just peeling his hair back off his forehead and squinting through the downpour to find some kind of shelter.

Zeb wasn't faring much better, really. The rain had soaked through his clothes, and the water hitting his forehead trickled down and dripped off his furrowed brow. They'd been doing this for... ten, fifteen, twenty minutes? They'd lost track, really.

Kallus stopped suddenly, sticking an arm out behind him to grab Zeb's hand. "There," he muttered.

Zeb peered through the rain, unable to see anything. "What?"

"I don't know." Kallus started walking, dragging Zeb behind him. "Something with an entrance. Come on."

Zeb followed, their walk turning into a run as Kallus's discovery came into view. It was a huge, grey slab of a building, standing out now they were closer against the trees. It had obviously been beautiful and detailed a long time ago, but hidden beneath rain and vines, it looked more as if someone had dumped a rock in the middle of the forest haphazardly.

_A Jedi temple_ , Zeb realised as they stepped inside. Kanan had talked about these. Apparently, there were quite a few of them on Yavin from back in the Jedi's heyday. Some of them were re-purposed from the Massassi who had lived there long ago, others built by the Jedi themselves, but all had now crumbled into ruin.

He wasn't sure how it was for Jedi, but on Lasan, to see a temple in a state of disrepair was a sad thing, as if the Ashla itself had fallen in the face of the galaxy.

_Look at you now_ , he thought, wondering if the temple could somehow understand him. _Serving as shelter from the rain. Though,_ he added, his expression softening slightly, _I guess that's what you were made for. Shelter._

Kallus gazed around the building, his eyes taking in and categorising every detail, the way Zeb knew he couldn't help doing when he was somewhere new. "A temple of some kind?"

"Probably Jedi," Zeb replied. His voice echoed ominously around the room. "Kanan was telling me they have temples here."

Kallus paused for a moment then said, "Well, it keeps us dry. It doesn't matter what it is if it does that."

They walked side-by-side, further into the temple, until they reached a huge, grand room. In a past life, it had obviously been a place of meditation, though it was now too eerie to be somewhere either of them could relax for very long.

Kallus stopped again in the doorway. "I hope we're not breaking some rule by being in here."

Zeb shrugged. "The temple let us in. That's a good sign." At Kallus's confused expression, he added, "Apparently most temples won't even let you in unless you're a Jedi. 'Sides," he said, elbowing Kallus jokingly, "if we do break any rules, Kanan'll be sure to tell us later."

"In great detail, I expect." Kallus smirked, then sighed and began to walk towards the front of the space, near an altar of some kind. "I suppose we should sit, then," he said, very quietly. "Try to... pay our respects, as best we can."

Zeb grunted in response, following Kallus and copying as he sat down cross-legged on the floor.

Kallus cleared his throat. "So, I..." he trailed off. "Karabast. I should've paid more attention to what the Jedi were doing on Coruscant."

"I'm not doing any better." Zeb bent his legs so he was kneeling down. "All I remember is the stuff about the Ashla."

"Same thing as the Force, though, isn't it?"

Zeb nodded. "That's what Kanan said, yeah. One thing, many names."

"You should probably use that knowledge here, then." Kallus sucked in a tight, nervous breath. "I don't want any... curses being put on me. Or something."

Zeb snorted. "I don't think it can do that."

Kallus shot him a look that said _I don't know that, and neither do you._

"Fine." Zeb shut his eyes, straightened up, and tried to remember the old prayers.

" _O, Ashla,_ " he said in Lasat. They all began that way. He used to wonder why they had to call on an omniscient force, really. Wouldn't it already know?

Back to business.

" _O, Ashla_ ," he repeated, finally remembering one that always came up, " _we bow before you, and are awestruck by your presence._ "

He paused. _Not very long, is it?_

Time to improvise, then. " _T_ _hank you for... providing shelter. For me and..._ " he scrambled to find the right word for Kallus. What was the closest thing again? "... _my love._ "

Kallus's hand squeezed his knee. Zeb cracked an eye open.

"I heard love," Kallus explained.

"Yeah." Zeb shut his eyes again. "I'm talking about you."

"Good things?" Kallus's tone was light, but Zeb could hear the hint of worry in his voice.

"Yeah, 'course." Zeb took one of his hands and placed it on top of Kallus's. "I wouldn't slag you off to the Ashla, Kal."

Kallus made a hum of acknowledgement. They were both quiet for a while, until Kallus shifted closer, resting his head on Zeb's shoulder. "We're soaked."

Zeb laughed. "Took you that long to realise?"

Kallus snorted. "You know what I meant."

"Yeah." Zeb watched as Kallus's fringe flopped forward, dripping water onto the floor in front of them. He could see their faces reflected in the puddle, albeit blurred and oddly proportioned. He smiled at puddle-Kallus. "Yeah, I do."

Kallus sighed again, slumping properly against Zeb and shutting his eyes. "I've gone soft. Hearing rain when I'm inside just makes me want to sleep."

Zeb chuckled and put an arm around him. "Soft's okay, right now."

Kallus nuzzled into his side. "I know. Just not used to it."

Zeb could feel the tension behind those words, the unspoken implication he wouldn't say, the twinge of fear that ran through Kallus as he remembered his past, even vaguely.

He pressed a kiss into Kallus's hair and thought for a moment about what he was going to say.

He was hesitant when he spoke. "...You mind if I say something else? Like, you know..."

Kallus peeked up at him. "To the temple?"

"Yeah."

Kallus waved a hand and shut his eyes. "Go ahead."

" _Also_ ," Zeb said, speaking in Lasat again, " _I_ _'d like to... to ask you for something._ "

Kallus shifted against him. He'd told Zeb before he found him speaking Lasat relaxing.

" _I want you to_ ‒" Zeb cut himself off and started again. " _Please, help him._ " He hoped the Ashla knew who he was talking about. " _He's okay, today, but..._ " He tensed the arm that was around Kallus, as if to check that he was still there. " _But he isn't always. And I know why he isn't, but_ ‒" Karabast, this was hard. "‒ _but he's forgiven, okay? And if you could, you know, let him know that, that'd..._ " He gazed up at the once-majestic patterns on the wall. " _That'd be great. Thanks._ "

Kallus's breathing had evened out to the point where Zeb knew he was asleep. His next words, then, were quiet, half not wanting to wake Kallus, and half terrified of admitting what he had to say out loud to some deity.

" _I love him._ " He stared down at the floor. " _Some people say I shouldn't, and I'm not great at it, but I do. So,_ " he said, looking up towards the ceiling again, " _there's that._ "

And then there was a gust of wind, and the rain hit the roof of the temple harder than before, and Zeb was suddenly very sleepy too.

He pulled Kallus closer and shut his eyes.

When they woke, the rain had stopped. The air smelled slightly damp, like all the rainwater had decided to try and evaporate at once, and light shone brightly through the cracks and gaps in the stone, rays dappling the stone floor.

Kallus yawned and glanced lazily around the room. He nudged Zeb in the side. "Zeb. The rain stopped."

Zeb stirred from his sleep, letting out a low, sleepy groan. He, too, looked around the room, his ears twitching to try and catch any sounds. "Yeah. It did." He shut his eyes again, drawing Kallus back into the position they'd been sleeping in.

Kallus laughed, but obliged. "I don't think we should be sleeping in here any longer than we already have."

"Nah. 'S fine," Zeb mumbled, sleepily. "I told the Ashla it's fine." He opened his eyes for a moment to look at the ceiling and say, in Lasat, " _It's all good._ "

"You did _not_ say that earlier." Kallus kissed his cheek before wriggling free of Zeb's grip. Once he was stood up, he dusted himself off, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and offered Zeb a hand. "Come on. They'll be wondering where we've been."

Zeb gazed up, watching the light shine from behind Kallus, framing his face and turning his hair golden. "Mmm." He relaxed back onto his arms. "You look like a..." _Karabast, what was the word?_ "Good thing. Shiny thing."

Kallus snorted. "Is this why you don't talk much when you wake up?"

"Yeah." Zeb laughed, still grinning dopily, and took Kallus's hand.

Kallus helped tug him to his feet and grinned at the way Zeb swayed a little, still half-asleep. He put a hand on Zeb's shoulder to steady him. "Let's go."

Zeb nodded, and they walked out of the temple together, pausing at the entrance for a moment. Kallus took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the forest after the rain, and Zeb was struck with how peaceful he looked, like there was nothing to worry about here.

_Did it...?_ Zeb wondered.

He turned back to the temple, staring up at the grand, foreboding entrance.

_Thank you,_ he thought, hoping it would hear. _I don’t know what you did, or even if you_ ‒ Was that blasphemous somehow? It had to be. _If you did, but…_ He turned back away from the temple.

"Well, the rain's passed," Kallus said, bringing Zeb out of his thoughts. He beamed over at Zeb. "Whatever you said, it must have worked."

"Yeah," Zeb replied, "I guess so."

He slung an arm around Kallus’s shoulders, noticing for the first time that their clothes were both dry. “We’re not wet anymore.”

Kallus shrugged. “It was hot and windy in there, Zeb. I’m not surprised.” He laid his head on Zeb’s shoulder. “Not to mention I was sleeping next to a living furnace.”

Zeb resisted the urge to say that they really shouldn’t have dried that quickly, instead replying with a “Hmm,” and letting his thoughts go back to the temple.

_This was you, wasn’t it?_ he thought. _All of this. Letting us in, drying our clothes, helping Kallus, it was…_ He glanced over his shoulder at the temple. _It was you._

The implications of that hit him a second later. That meant the Ashla ‒ the Force ‒ the spirit of the kriffing universe, was okay with them, right? It wouldn’t be helping if it thought this was wrong. It wouldn’t be helping Kallus if it thought he was beyond help.

There was a sudden image in his head ‒ one of a traditional wedding on Lasan, Kallus and him standing together, flowers and berries and silks and gold adorning the both of them, someone’s voice uttering the final lines of the ceremony.

“ _May the Ashla be by your side._ ”

The voice saying it, however, was strange, as if it wasn’t being said by just one being, but by hundreds, thousands, millions, every particle in the universe aligning to tell Zeb one sentence.

He blinked back tears. Happy ones.

“You okay?” asked Kallus.

“Yeah.” Zeb blinked back the water in his eyes, grinned, and squeezed him closer. “Yeah, I think we’re doing just fine.”

_Thank you_ , he thought as they walked into the forest.

The door to the temple slid shut silently behind them.


End file.
